Therian Prize(4)

“I saw a wolf that night, but I haven’t seen one since. Transform for me now and I’ll end the challenge.”

“This is ridiculous.” She jerked her arm out of his hand and spun around.

He caught her other arm and jerked her back. “I think it was spontaneous. You honestly thought Carlos would kill you, so your Therian nature surged and you shifted into a form more able to defend herself.”

“That’s insane. He defined me, just like you wanted him to.” She let bitterness drip off each word, hoping to distract him.

“Then shift. Prove me wrong.”

She glared at him as she scrambled for a new defense. Continued denials were having no effect. “I can’t.”

He grinned but his fingers remained firm around her arm. “I knew it.”

“I watched my brother rip out the throat of the man you’d chosen for my mate moments after that same man tried to rip out my throat. That sort of stays with you. Every time I try to shift, all I see is Carlos’ mutilated body.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened, biting into her arm. He leaned closer, inhaling deeply as he asked, “Did Carlos feed you his blood?”

He had in countless nightmares, macabre distortions of already twisted events. She focused on that truth as she said, “Yes. All I have to do is close my eyes and the taste comes back to me. Now end this foolishness.”

For a long, tense moment he stared down at her, analyzing her scent and expression. “If you’re defined then your mate will help you overcome your squeamishness.”

“Not like this.” She tugged against his hand and tears burned in her throat. “Please, Dad, not like this.”

He ignored her objections and dragged her toward the crowd of onlookers. “The challenge is an old and honored tradition. There is no shame in this.”

No, the shame would come when her mate, whoever was brutal and ruthless enough to best the other hunters, claimed her body. He’d force her to the ground and demonstrate his strength and virility while the other competitors cheered him on. She’d seen several such encounters since she was old enough to participate in Howls and each had left her disgusted and nauseated.

“I can’t do this.” She used both hands in an effort to break his hold but he easily restrained her.

“Stop fighting me! You only humiliate yourself. There is no reason for your stubbornness. This is natural, an event to be celebrated.”

“This is barbaric and cruel,” she cried. “I will not be the prize for some twisted blood sport.”

He paused and stared deep into her eyes, a hint of tenderness softening his expression. “You are a treasure I will award to the strongest and most cunning among numerous packs. You should be proud. The turnout for your challenge is unprecedented.” Without another word, he continued his trek toward the crowd, dragging her behind him.

She looked at Lexxie in panicked anger but her friend appeared as upset as Heather.

“I didn’t know about this,” Lexxie insisted. “I swear. He told me it was a Howl.”

“It is a Howl,” Nate objected. “But rather than dancing and fucking, Heather’s mating ceremony will be the entertainment.”

His fingers banded her upper arm, firm, unbreakable. Even if she managed to break free, where would she go? Rather than humiliate herself further by kicking and screaming, Heather walked at his side, chin raised, gaze coolly assessing. He hadn’t exaggerated. The vast majority of attendees were male and many were from other packs.

The crowd parted for them, offering her an unobstructed view of the combatants. Three fights were going on simultaneously, each bout savage and bloody. She crossed her arms over her chest and forced herself to watch. She would not show fear in the face of this madness. She had to remain calm and watch for an opportunity if she hoped to escape.

Escape? Was there really any hope that she could outrun all these men?

“As soon as this round is decided, we’ll be down to the final six,” her father explained. He seemed absorbed by the competition, yet he maintained his hold on her arm. “My money is on Risdon, but Braden Montego is solid too.” He motioned toward two men standing across from them. She recognized James Risdon. The other man was a stranger to her. James was one of her father’s favorites and James had made no secret of his desire for her. Braden was tall and lean with sharp features and pale-green eyes. He stared at her boldly as if he were already undressing her.

One of the combatants screamed and Heather’s attention returned to the fight. The wounded man held his arm against his chest, his hand twisted at an unnatural angle. His opponent smiled with malicious joy and Heather felt sick all over.